God is Actually an Eccentric Wrathful Yaoi Fangirl
by Ayakashi
Summary: Haruhi is bored, jealous, and angry with Kyon. She will create new horrific and perverse ways to cause him agony and ecstasy. Implied Haruhi x Kyon x Mikuru and Itsuki x Kyon. Beware, minor yaoi is included, but used for irony and not focus of story.


_**God is Actually an Eccentric Wrathful (Yaoi) Fangirl**_

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SUZUMIYA HARUHI, one-shot. Implied Haruhi X Kyon X Mikuru and Itsuki X Kyon. Written before there was a Haruhi category. Characters are in-character as possible for a fic including some mild yaoi.

Summary: Haruhi is bored yet again, and Kyon is constantly checking out all of the other girls _except_ her! The Goddess named Haruhi is furious. She will take the task of antagonizing our poor dear Kyon to the next level... Kyon, you'd better beware!

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Haruhi was bored.

She looked at the SOS Brigade members gathered before her. They were spread across the classroom, lazy and bored, like superficial lumps of skin and hair. Two of the said lumps were slumped over in their crappy wooden chairs, hesitantly moving chess pieces back and forth over black-and-white squares. Another was typing relentlessly at a key-board, and the last one found herself fidgeting with the task of reattaching a tea cup handle to a tea cup with a packet of old sticky glue.

They were such insignificant people with such fleeting lives. In a few years they would grow up, marry, have and raise children, live, and then they would _die_. They would, and she would too. It was just the cycle of life. The incessant and never-ending cycle. It was so repetitive, turning in the same direction, and at the same speed, since perhaps the beginning of time itself...

...How greatly Haruhi longed to grab that wheel of destiny and spin it the _other_ way. To hold it with her human hands and see what happened if she _stopped_ it's movements altogether, and to suddenly let and go and fling it with all her might—

But of course she couldn't. Despite the exuberant amounts of energy and effort wasted in pretending to neither know nor care, Haruhi acknowledged the fact that she was but one mere teenage girl. Every day she did her homework, lived her life, while always procrastinating and dreaming about something _more_— just like any other person. Insignificant, foolish, self-conscious, worrisome, and with such a fleeting existence. There was nothing she could do, however badly she wanted, to offset the balance of her unbelievably boring life.

Oh how ironic it _really_ was.

"Kyon." Haruhi ordered suddenly.

The less handsome of the two teenage males sitting before her looked up. His dark brown eyes flickered with an unnerving amount of instantaneous feelings of wary. Haruhi sighed and felt her innards crumple as she was yet again reminded of Kyon's anxious feelings towards her.

Why couldn't _he_, of all people, just _trust_ her?

"Kyon." She repeated. "Kiss Mikuru."

The boy's expression slid from apprehensive to wide-eyed and appalled in a split second. He both looked astounded and eager and angry.

"What? But I can't!"

"Yes! Yes, you _can!_" Haruhi proclaimed. She slapped her paper fan against the back of her computer, and her butt departed from the seat of her chair as she jumped up. She flung the chair aside and stood in a demeaning and tall pose.

Mikuru was cowering in the corner of the room. "_Ah-h!_ K-Kyon-kun! I like you, a lot, b-but I can't k-k-kiss you! I'm v_ery sorry!_ Suzumiya-_saaaan!" _She wailed.

Kyon made no advance. He continued to glare at their leader.

Haruhi pouted. "Do it!"

_I must do it,_ Kyon concluded, a little bit too eagerly. _If I_ don't_, who knows what Haruhi will do? The crazy bitch. What if the whole world_ ends _because of me!_

He looked across the room and at Mikuru.

Her long coppery hair was soft and brushed against her flushed cheeks as she shook her head, sliding off her shoulders and shimmering down her back. Tear drops leaked from the corners of her eyes, and her large breasts were pressed together as she wrapped her arms around herself and whimpered, while the long skirt from her maid outfit shifted back-and-forth as she rocked herself gently.

Kyon quickly thought some very dirty thoughts having to do Mikuru's blushing, and her quiet moaning, and her overly huge breasts. And though he found maid outfits a huge turn on, this particular fantasy involved no such clothes. Actually, there were no clothes at all.

Kyon definitely wanted to kiss Mikuru. Perhaps do _more_ than that. Mikuru was, after all, very, _very_, undeniably _hott_. Enough to deserve a double letter_ "t."_

But despite his desires, he _couldn't._ He would never take her first kiss away— to _deflower_ such a sweet and beautiful girl like that would be a sin! It was a greater sin than stealing a hundred razor-sharp diamonds and murdering the Prime Minister by shoving them down his throat. And _that_ was a horrible sin... No, he would never kiss Mikuru, even if he was told to, even if he wanted to. He wouldn't _let_ himself.

_Stop smirking, dammit_, Kyon thought at Koizumi Itsuki, and noticed that even Yuki had looked up from the faintly glowing computer screen to gaze at him in a blank doe-like sort of way.

"Ah!" Mikuru squeaked, as if something important had occurred to her. She blushed up at Kyon and looked away. "Suzumiya-san might get _angry_ at _Kyon-kun_... If I don't... don't... obey her! We must do it… I don't want... _Kyon-kun_ to be _blamed_ for _my_ in-incompetance—"

Haruhi blanched. _No!_ Mikuru wasn't _supposed_ to submit to him. And did Kyon actually _want_ to kiss Mikuru? Yes, Mikuru was so very cute that at _least _every male in the entire school (and probably some females, too) had swooned and fantasized over her. And she _did _have such large breasts for someone of her small size bouncy yet firm and soft and the size of ripe grapefruits, (Haruhi knew this first hand), and of course Mikuru was so passive and docile, and moé-moé, and wore maid outfits which was common fetish— but Haruhi had only been teasing!

"_Stop!"_ Haruhi objected, suddenly whacking Kyon with all of her might on the back of his head with her paper fan, filled with an enlightened sort of anger. She hoped there were red marks underneath his hair, and she was momentarily tempted to rip it out and see if there really were.

"_Nooo!"_ Haruhi steamed. "I change my mind. You can't kiss any other girls."

"Oh." Expressions of relief and disappointment flickered on Kyon's face.

Haruhi felt something within her chest crack, she blinked to keep her eyes from leaking.

_What the hell?_ Why should Kyon feel disappointed? She'd saved him, right? Did Kyon _really_ like Mikuru? Did he really want to kiss her? Kyon was so ordinary, yet she'd always thought of him as being special, even though he obviously wasn't. Was he really like _all _of the other male pigs in the grade, who all found Mikuru extensively attractive?

It wasn't fair! How _dare_ he prefer moé-type girls like Mikuru! It just wasn't fair. Revenge bubbled up within her.

She growled.

"Kiss Koizumi-kun instead."

It took a few moments for her new death-sentence to register in his brain, "..._what?"_

"Kiss him!" She repeated. "Do as I said! You heard me!"

"_WHAT!"_

"_You heeeaaaard me!"_ Haruhi was now yelling.

"No!"

Kyon whipped around furiously, finally breaking eye-contact with the Demon Goddess. For one fleeting instant his dark eyes hit Mikuru's wide pale ones and was briefly puzzled by the slightly elated look that he found there.

Nagato Yuki had, of course, gone back to typing.

Kyon glared across the table at Itsuki, expecting returned disgust and refusal and anything _but_ the amused smirk that Itsuki was still wearing, which Kyon presumed was permanently cemented there.

"Haruhi is God…" Itsuki mouthed as the proclaimed God preoccupied herself with the task of stomping over to her desk and sitting firmly in the spinning swivel chair as if it was a throne.

"To me and my fellow ESPers at _the Organization_, Suzumiya-san is a _God_: We can't disobey her." Itsuki was saying. "She could completely rewrite and change the world. How would you feel if the world _ended_ because of _you_?"

Kyon was beginning to wonder if the whole 'the-world-will-end-if-I-don't-obey-Haruhi-sama' theory was a running gag that existed only to humiliate him.

Haruhi whapped the paper fan against her desk impatiently. "Hurry up!" She frowned. "Oh, and no cheating! Kiss him, Kyon, like how you _wanted_ to kiss Mikuru!" Her tone was heated, vicious, and had a sharp angry edge. "With tongue! French it up, Kyon! ...See how Itsuki is good; _he_ does everything that I say-- why don't _you?_"

_Because you have stupid things to say,_ Kyon thought quickly as Itsuki got up and walked around the table towards him... _And they would therefore be extremely stupid to_ do…

"Haruhi says so." Itsuki annunciated the words, suggesting their utter importance. "We really shouldn't disobey her."

Kyon wondered if Itsuki was actually so devoted to Haruhi that he would willingly follow her into the depths of hell— and kiss another man— or was plainly a closet homosexual. Where the damn hell was his masculine dignity? Kyon suspected the latter, but was momentarily distracted when he noticed that Nagato had actually bothered to look up from the flashing numbers on the computer's desktop to gaze over at him, with her head slightly cocked to one side.

Apparently no one in the room was willing to save him. Mikuru was biting on her thumbnail and her face remained red and unreadable.

"Get on with it, Kyo-_on!"_ Haruhi snarled.

"_Why?" _Kyon said, forcing his voice to break with desperation. He had resorted to using Mikuru's infamous method of manipulating Haruhi, (which almost never actually worked); to pleading, to bowing before her and groveling, to _begging_ like a spineless _dog_.

"_Because—!"_ Haruhi began to explain, as if there were no words in the world that were nearly as important as the jealousy and outrage seething in her veins being verbalized— but then paused. "Don't question me, just do as I say! Stop trying to distract me or change the topic!"

"Nooo, " Kyon huffed. He returned a grotesque expression to the leering Itsuki. He felt his insides unwinding and his cheeks flush.

Itsuki touched his hand.

In that moment, memories and visions blurred before his eyes. Of "sealed space," of the giant sparkly Evangelion-like mechas booming through the deserted school, of Asakura-san with her flashing steel pocket knife and the quick lethal dance she performed as she attacked him, of Nagato being impaled by many steel beams and telling him that she was, somehow, impossibly, _"—alright_."

The images warped in his mind to match his beating heart and it was now _Mikuru _who was being stabbed. A scream like death itself, her blood splattered like crimson rain over the front of his school jacket, blood rolling off in little red beads, as she died protecting him. As she _died_. Her head lolled to one side, her sun-lit amber eyes glazed over, her copper hair was sticky and matted with blood, salty tears slid down her cheeks and off her chin— It was only a dream, a nightmare, but it felt so horribly real.

Was this what the end of the world would be like? No, not if he could help it. _No_, he could not let this happen. _Never_.

And if he didn't do as Haruhi said, the world might end, and it _could_. People might turn on each other, blood would be spilled, and poor defenseless Mikuru-chan would be hurt.

Istuki pulled Kyon inwards, and tightened his already firm grip on his hand.

"We _must_ do this." Itsuki said, but as he wrapped his arms around Kyon in a tight embrace and pressed their bodies together, Kyon thought that Itsuki actually _wanted_ to.

Kyon couldn't say that he shared the same thoughts. No, not at all.

Itsuki was handsome, yes, very pretty for a male, actually. His bishounen-esque hair was light brown and wispy and soft, his eyes were sharp and a mystical shade of pale hazel. He was slim in the right places, and toned in the others, and had an athlete's body.

But Kyon couldn't pretend that he didn't prefer cute and moé girls like Mikuru to other men. No, he really couldn't.

Kyon also knew that despite his profound and undeniable heterosexuality, he was blushing, and cursed himself for doing so. The situation was so extremely awkward that he wasn't sure how to react.

But he couldn't disobey Haruhi. No, never. The images of Mikuru laying dead with her bright blood splattering forth were etched in his mind like a burning brand.

Kyon _had_ to comply. He _let _Itsuki breath on his neck and slide his firm hands over his shoulders and back.

Kyon would much rather melt into a pile of goo and slide away through the cracks in the floor, but the likelihood of that happening was as likely as Itsuki pushing him away and smooch Mikuru instead. And _that_ was as unlikely as the term "_unlikely_" could possibly define, (only to further confirmed by the creepy seductive smile pasted on Itsuki's handsome face, as if he was extremely enjoying this and would do it every day without hesitation).

Itsuki slid his hand behind Kyon's neck, his fingers pressing into his hair, and he leaned forward to place his lips on Kyon's. Kyon felt Itsuki's warm wet lips against his own —ew, was that his tongue?— and he didn't know where to put his hands. (Wrapping them around and straddling Itsuki, in a similar manner to what Itsuki was doing to him right at that moment, was most unappealing).

Itsuki was on him and around him and he was sweating and blushing. Itsuki's knee slid against his thigh and Kyon's mind was hazy with a blurring amount of rushed and confused emotions and some disgust—

_**CLICK! CLICK!**_

Kyon pressed his hands on Itsuki's chest and shoved him away with whatever was left of his strength, which happened to be enough force to send Itsuki stumbling backwards into the sharp edge of the table. Kyon pulled back and whipped around.

_**CLICK!**_

Nagato Yuki was holding a digital camera. It was one of those expensive super-slim silver ones with a high power lense, and Kyon briefly wondered where an Alien Data-Processing Entity such as herself could possibly get enough money to afford one. Well, anyone with her caliber of intellect could probably find a well-paying job anywhere— wait, this was irrelevant.

"_You took a picture of that! WHAT? WHY!"_ Kyon fumed. His mind flashed back to the ordeal when Haruhi blackmailed the Computer Club and took a picture of their Leader groping Mikuru's squishy breasts— _"ARE YOU GOING TO BLACK-MAIL OR SHOW IT TO OTHER PEOPLE OR— No! No!"_ Kyon was outraged at the idea. What if the picture leaked out, what if someone, or what if one of his _friends_ saw it? He'd be absolutely humiliated!

"No. It's purpose is merely to be my own personal viewing material." Nagato flipped the laptop around and pressed the space key with her thumb. A file popped up, and images of Mikuru flashed across the screen, filling and overlapping across the entire moniter.

"See?" She gestured at the images. "It's no different than something that you would do and have done for yourself." Nagato explained in her soft monotone voice.

"Huhhhh? What did Kyon-kun do—" Nagato closed the file before Mikuru could come over and marvel at the degrading images of herself and burst into tears. Nagato handed the sleek little digital camera to Mikuru, who plucked it up carefully and looked into the screen as a pink blush crept across her cheeks.

"Perfect-o!" Haruhi announced. "Good idea, Yuki!"

"_Yeah_," Mikuru nodded energetically, still blushing furiously. "You're always so smart, Nagato-san."

"_Huh?"_ Kyon demanded, having finished spitting in the waste bucket and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. _Huh?_ What was Mikuru complimenting Nagato for doing? _Why_ was she? He didn't understand at all.

"They're avid yaoi fangirls." Itsuki explained, and leaned across the table to wink Kyon in a flirty winsome manner.

Kyon felt something inside his chest sink, like a hundred-pound anchor tumbling down to the bottom of the sea, crushing all of the little minnows dwelling in the murky depths below. It unnerved and disturbed him.

He had once thought that aliens, ESPers, time-travelers, and a God were bad enough?

Add a homosexual bishounen, and three yaoi fangirls. Oh, and he was the one straight guy.

Holy shit.

He did _not_ want to think about that equation, even though he knew that he'd be forced to cruelly acknowledge the truth someday...

Across the room, Haruhi glanced away from Kyon and clicked through the pictures of her two favorite male SOS Brigade members snogging as they uploaded into the computer. She couldn't help but giggle.

Yes, they were insignificant, and the fact that they had kissed really wouldn't make a difference in the world. She was also insignificant, and her own existence was just as inconsequential, and there was nothing she could ever do about it...

But maybe this world— despite it's many imperfections and flaws— well, maybe it _wasn't_ so dreadfully boring after all. Perhaps she'd actually manage to amuse herself.

…At least for now.

END.

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